


Strike a Match and Burn Us to the Ground

by seventeensteps



Category: Star Trek RPF, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Smut, i don't even know man, kind of, selfcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2209494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventeensteps/pseuds/seventeensteps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Chris was quite certain that this dude wasn’t just his obsessive look-alike cosplayer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strike a Match and Burn Us to the Ground

 

Chris couldn’t believe that this was his life.

To be more elaborate, Chris couldn’t believe that this was happening to him: the fact that he was standing in his living room, his own _home_ , looking at a man who looked exactly like him lying casually on his sofa.

Well, that man wasn’t literally himself—Christopher Whitelaw Pine, but _James Tiberius Kirk_ was technically himself anyway. And if someone argued with him that maybe this was just his long lost twin or whatever, Chris was going to punch that someone in the face, because if the man’s face wasn’t obvious enough, the gold over-shirt with three stripes around the wrists was beaming captaincy at him.

And Chris was quite certain that this dude wasn’t just his obsessive look-alike cosplayer.

Chris tried pinching himself, the _real_ himself, for the third time to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming. _Ouch._ Shit. Not dreaming. Maybe he was hallucinati-

“Hey. Hey!” The man waved a hand in front of Chris to get his attention. “Stop staring at me like that. It’s creepy.”

Chris just gaped at him. He knew it looked retarded, but the man—Jim, oh for God’s sake—was being unbelievable. “How could- how could I possibly not stare at a person that looks exactly like me?”

“I don’t look like you.”

“What-”

“I’m you.” _Crash._ “Jesus, are you okay?” Jim sprang up and hurried to where Chris was on the floor. Damn his stupid legs.

“I’m alright.” Chris stood up, tried not to look too embarrassed by brushing imaginary dust off his jeans, and failed miserably. Judging from the temperature on his face, Chris knew both his cheeks and ears would be burning red by now. “What?”

“What _what_?” Jim arched his impressive eyebrows at him.

“Now, _you_ ’re the one staring at me.” Chris stared back. Wow, he never knew his eyes were so blue, _this_ blue. They were beautiful, objectively speaking.

Jim continued eyeing him silently for a few seconds then remarked, “You’re cute.”

“I am _not_ cute. I _am_ handsome,” Chris bristled.

“No, you’re adorably cute,” Jim chuckled good-naturedly, “and I’m the devilishly handsome one in this. What’s your name, my sweet doppelganger?”

Oh, that was right. Jim didn’t know about him. “Chris. Chris Pine.” And, really, Chris was certain that this man standing less than three feet away with a smug smile on his face and Chris looked so damn identical. Any person would say they were fucking clones even if the other man’s hair was a few shades lighter than his. But whatever, Chris decided to let it go. The question was how could a supposed-to-be fictional character exist in his world? Alternate universe was one thing, but Jim and Chris existed in different realities or dimensions or whatever you want to call it, and that was another thing entirely. Or was that the same thing? Chris just didn’t know anymore. His head hurt. None of this was making any sense.

“Alrighty, Chris, I’m James T. Kirk, but you can call me Jim.” Jim came closer and grabbed his nape, his hand cool on Chris’s skin. “I think I had accidentally slipped into your universe by a transporter malfunction on my side, but because my chief engineer and first officer are super awesome, I’m gonna get back to my universe soon.”

Biting his bottom lip, Chris nodded slowly. “Um, okay.”

“You don’t have any questions?” the Captain prompted. Chris just shook his head. “This whole bizarre incident is all fine with you? No offense, but it looks like this world’s technology isn’t as developed as the one I live in, and I take it you guys still haven’t met the aliens, huh?”

“None taken, and no, still nothing from the aliens. And, well, I’ve watched a lot of sci-fi movies, so I’m quite familiar with the concept and kind of understand what you meant.” He suddenly started feeling self-conscious and became hyperaware of the hand on his neck, its thumb rubbing a small circle onto the soft skin just under his left ear.

“But that doesn’t mean that you’re not shocked.”

“That doesn’t mean that I’m not shocked.”

“Huh.” Jim looked like he was deciding something, those blue orbs unfocused, his thumb still stroking Chris absentmindedly like doing that would help him reach a decision easier. The thumb stopped.

“Let’s make out,” Jim said bluntly.

 _What?_ Chris gawked at the other man. What did he suggest?

“Come on, Chris”— _oh_ _god_ , the way Jim said his name—“I’m hot, admit it, we’re hot!” Jim laughed, “and I’ve always wanted to make out with me. Have you never thought about doing it with yourself? No? Well, I have.” The man wiggled his eyebrow, his purposeful hand started moving south. It advanced unhurriedly down Chris’s torso and eventually rested firmly on the small of his back, barely above his buttocks. Chris didn’t know why, it wasn’t like Jim was that much stronger than him or anything (maybe a little bit fitter than him), but he just _couldn’t_ pull away.

And the next thing Chris knew was the touch of Jim’s another hand on the side of his face and that they were kissing. It started slow and was more like a peck at first, but then when Chris began to nibble back, all their reservations were gone, and there they were, sucking on the other’s lips and tongue fervently.

Okay. Kissing himself—kissing Jim was okay. Kissing Jim was great. His counterpart really had a talent for this; the way he swiped his tongue into Chris’s mouth and devoured his soul right out of him was so hot and obscene and Chris loved it. No wonder every girl in Star Trek wanted a piece of Captain Kirk’s— _holymother_ —Jim’s right hand was kneading his ass _just right_ , making his legs turn to jelly and his cock go from half hard to rock hard within seconds.

“I knew it.” Jim mouthed at his throat fervidly while helping him stay upright by thrusting a thigh in between Chris’s quivering legs. Chris could barely stand right now. The other man’s mouth and hands (and also the thigh rubbing his groin, yep, must not forget the thigh) were driving him insane. “Our sensitive spots are the same.”

_Fuck. Jim was really, really good at this._

“Let’s take this to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris panted, “the bed. Whatever.”

Chris pushed Jim toward his bedroom door, and after some crashing and falling on top of each other for a delicious period of time, Jim was finally on his bed, enticing blue eyes half-lidded and triumphant. He pulled Chris down impatiently by the front of his shirt. Their mouths crashed again desperately.

Somehow, Jim managed to lose the upper part of his Star Fleet uniform in the midst of heated kisses and nips, and was now tugging at the hem of Chris’s shirt. “Off, off, off.”

Chris pulled his mouth away from where he was sucking hungrily on the intoxicating flesh, nearly yanked his buttons off when they stuck, and threw his shirt away. It landed somewhere on the floor between his piles of classic novels by his bed and Jim’s regulation black boots.

And while Chris was fighting with his row of buttons, Jim had to take that moment to take off his pants and briefs, because the Captain spreading in front of him right now was stark naked. Vividly naked. And Chris saw everything, from his pink nipples to his lovely, pre-cum leaking cock, which was painfully hard. So Chris did what he thought was the most logical thing at the moment.

He bent down and took Jim into his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck- _Chris-_ ” Jim moaned and writhed under Chris’s hand. He did it how he loved it, swirling his tongue around the head and hollowing his cheeks obscenely, and damn if the sound Jim was making wasn’t hot. He curled his fingers around the base, the other hand toying with Jim’s lower parts playfully. A hand came up and grabbed the back of his head, trying to push it down further. Chris batted the hand away and pulled off with a slick _pop_.

“Wha- what? Why did you stop?” Jim whined, confused, hips bucking up into nothing a few more times before they seemed to realize the lack of the _wet tight hot_ and stopped.

“Easy, tiger.” Chris smirked and pumped his hands lazily. “And, hey, I thought we were only going to make out.”

Jim groaned, “C’mon. Less talking, more sucking.” He pleaded with those baby blue eyes. “ _Please_.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Chris sank his mouth down again until the tip of his nose was tickled with the fair blonde hair and worked his throat, pulling out a string of curses and _ChrisChrisChrisChris_ from Jim’s swollen lips.

“I really wish— _fuck_ —I had a camera with me right now. Our lips are such a sin,” Jim panted, “no wonder Spock is really obsessed with my mouth.”

“ _What?_ ”

Jim kicked Chris’s shoulder blade lightly with his heel, the fucker, and whined, “why did you stop again? _Godddammit_.”

Chris blinked. “You. And Spock. Ha. Of course.” Pictures of Zach and him being together like _that_ flashed across his mind. (A familiar image, one that he happened to have thought about for hundreds of times already.) Chris winced internally, and maybe blushed a little more. He didn’t need the guilt of doing this behind Zach’s (or Spock’s) back right now. Even though Zach already had a boyfriend, who was a model and lithe and beautiful and dark-haired and nothing he could ever be. Whatever.

Jim seemed, however, to notice Chris’s bitterness, so he reached up, pulled Chris down by his neck, and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. Chris felt strong arms tighten around him, and his wall sort of crumbled. “Sorry. Didn’t know.” A voice mumbled to the curve of his neck. Jim knew. Somehow, Jim’d managed to figure out about Spock’s double. He didn’t know how, but hey Jim Kirk was a genius, so yeah.

“It’s okay.” Chris hated how his voice sounded so small.

“Do you want to stop? This, I mean.” Jim waved his hand in a vague circle between them.

“Oh, if you want to…”

“No! God, no. Look at my dick, man.” Chris shifted his gaze down, and _hey, hello again Jim’s dick_. As raging as the last time it was in his mouth. He could still taste Jim on his tongue. “But if you want to, just say it.” Jim said, caressing his cheek.

Chris wanted so, so much to lean into the warmth of Jim’s hand, so he did. Then he turned and placed a soft kiss to the palm, and croaked, “don’t wanna stop.”

Jim growled, and the next second Chris was flipped onto his back. Jim kissed him again, open-mouthed and dirty full of promises. He then paused and started nipping at Chris’s jaw. “Can I fuck you? God, or do you want to fuck me? _Please._ Something. I need-”

“You can.” Chris grabbed Jim’s ass and squeezed encouragingly, turned his head, and took Jim’s mouth once again.

Jim kissed back as hard, hands reaching down to pumped Chris quickly a few times, pushed Chris’s thighs apart, and moved in between them. “Lube. And condom,” the Captain panted. Chris pushed himself up and reached for the nightstand. He came back with a half-empty bottle of lube and a couple condoms, and put them down somewhere on the bed. Chris’s brain wasn’t really functioning right now because Jim was lifting his legs up and bending down and— _holy mother of Jesus_ —started licking teasingly at his hole.

That embarrassing moan definitely wasn’t his. His brain was fucking fuzzy right now, but Chris knew what he was doing. He was being attacked repeatedly by the super skilled tongue of Captain Perfect Hair of the great and gracious Enterprise, and he definitely wasn’t moaning that loud. Maybe a little loud. But definitely not that lou- “Oh, fuck, fuck, _fuck, hhnnnnnggggg_ -”

And then he heard a snicker. From between his spread legs. If the man wasn’t great at what he was doing , Chris would have killed him already. His pride was wounded, okay?

“Stop thinking,” Jim ordered, a finger circling at his entrance slowly and Chris absolutely didn’t try to push back, “I can totally hear wheels running in that brain of yours.” Chris did open his mouth to protest, but then suddenly the slick tip of Jim’s finger was in his ass and all that was coming out of his mouth was a low whimper. He wriggled a little to adjust himself. It’d been so long since that last time, but thankfully it didn’t hurt. Just a bit uncomfortable.

Jim moved himself up to kiss him softly, carefully sliding in his digit, the other hand rubbing the head of Chris’s cock lightly, which made Chris unconsciously reach up and clutch Jim’s shoulder blades with both hands. As he was beginning to relax some more, Jim deepened the kiss, and added a second finger.

“Hah,” Chris gasped for air, a tingling sense of pleasure starting to bloom behind his eyelids. _When did he close his eyes?_ Both the Captain’s intoxicating kiss and exceptional hands were making him crazy. Chris clawed at Jim’s back, trying to find something to hold on to. But then Jim twisted his fingers and colors went off behind his eyes and Chris realized sometimes it was better to let go.

He was blissfully lost in the pleasure of Jim’s touch until the man pulled his fingers out and Chris found himself grinding his hips down onto nothing; he whined at the empty feeling. He wanted something, needed _something_.

“C’mon,” Chris groaned, trying to tug Jim closer. “I’m ready.”

Jim gave him an innocent smile. “What?”

“Oh my god. Really?” He squirmed impatiently. “You so know what I mean.”

“Yes. I do.”

“Then get-”

“But I want you to say it.” Jim smirked.

Chris couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Mr. Kirk, are you going to fucking get your dick in me or do I have to turn to my dildo for the assistance?” Chris quirked his eyebrow, legs spreading wider under Jim’s heavy gaze.

Jim half moaned, half growled, his hand shakily rolling on a condom. “Oh, my _Christopher_ , I’m going to fuck you until the only thing you know is my name.”

Chris felt the blunt head of Jim’s cock against his entrance and instinctively tensed up. While he was trying to breathe really slowly and not make this awkward, he felt Chris’s hand touching his side soothingly, and his grip on Jim’s bicep loosened.

Jim sank into him, little by little, every inch a mix of pain and pleasure, until he was buried to the hilt. “ _Fuck_ ,” Jim croaked, “you’re so tight,” and gave him a gentle peck, “and so fucking hot. Oh my fucking god, you’re so beautiful.” And after hearing something like that, something akin to fondness from someone who mattered, Chris just couldn’t help that his face was burning and his throat kind of closed up right now.

“Okay,” he breathed out, “now _move_.”

Jim intertwined their fingers together, pulled out almost all the way, and then drove back in again, eliciting a soft ‘ _ah_ ’ a few times before he changed his angle and those little ‘ _ah_ ’s became sweet, broken whimpers. Chris writhed under Jim’s weight, hips moving on its own accord, and grasped the bed sheet tightly. “Fa- _faster_.”

The Captain went wild. He leaned down and planted a rough, sloppy kiss on his mouth, the fineness already lost between them. Chris moaned loudly into Jim’s mouth; he slammed his hips three more times and Chris was gone. His mind went completely blank. A sense of ecstasy washed over him. Body only registered from somewhere far away that Jim was going frenzied, suddenly stilled, and then collapsed on top of him.

Chris didn’t know how long had passed—thirty seconds, three minutes, or one hour—before Jim sat up and started wiping themselves with his gold Captain shirt.

“Holy fuck.”

Jim blinked. “Yeah. Holy fuck.”

Chris breathed in and out dumbly. He felt like all his brain cells were severely damaged in the mind-blowing sex just now.

“You’re welcome,” Jim lay down beside him and snickered.

“Oh, shut up,” Chris said, smiling.

Nobody said anything for a while. It was a comfortable silence, one he usually didn’t share with people he hadn’t met for more than one day. Jim reached up to stroke his hair, so he scooted closer to the source of warmth in the room. It seemed only logical.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?” he asked sleepily, head turned a little to the side to look at his double.

Jim looked down into Chris’s eyes, that same pair of Bombay Sapphires, like he had something to say.

But then he shook his head a little and squeezed him tightly with strong arms, face burying in the crook of Chris’s neck, nuzzling. He could feel Jim’s breath tickling his skin. He hugged back, lips planting soft pecks along the juncture between Jim’s neck and shoulder. When Jim pulled back, there was a sad, wistful smile on his face. “Sorry.”

And Chris just _knew_. He knew what it was for, and why it was there.

They shared a soft, intimate kiss. Chris opened his eyes again and glanced at the mussed sheet. He could feel the warmth against his cooling skin; smelled the sweet, apple scent hanging in the air around him.

He was, however, the only one in the room.


End file.
